


she loves so hard it hurts

by zxrysky



Series: Naruto Drabbles [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pre-Boruto, Talking About Having Children, and decided to fight on naruto's side because Friendship, way back when sasuke Just came back from orochimaru's side or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22492744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: She opens her mouth, her stupid mouth that doesn’t know what to say, because she always doesn’t quite know what to say when faced with him, ever since they were kids learning how to fling around kunai and do hand signs, and says, “you know, I always wanted kids someday.”
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Naruto Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/296831
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	she loves so hard it hurts

She thinks she really, _really_ falls in love with him in between one heartbeat and another when she’s almost eighteen. It’s the strength lingering in the stiffness of his shoulders and the fierceness dotting his callouses on his palms; it’s the way he keeps turning to check on her for some goddamn reason she can’t understand, and she thinks he isn’t even noticing how he’s doing it.

His stupid, terrible hair falls into his face as he tightens his jaw and she wants to slap the silliness out of him, wants to knock him out with one good punch just so he sleeps enough and the gigantic eye bags can fade out. Her hand hovers over his forearm, willing her chakra to just work that little bit faster to knot back bone and sinew; she’s not merciful enough to let it heal painlessly, and she doesn’t have enough chakra for that, anyways. It’s going to be painful, it’s going to hurt, it’s bleeding like a bitch and her breath catches in her throat and he glances up-

“You’re okay?” He asks, or rather, murmurs under his breath, low enough that she almost couldn’t catch it. His eyes dart back to the ground, half lidded and tired and there’s lines in his face she knew didn’t exist a week before, because she never got over the habit of watching him.

_Am I okay_ , she thinks hysterically, and wants to laugh. She wants to laugh so hard it’d make her abdominal muscles contract sharply and hurt so bad; she thinks she might keel over from the force of it rising up in her belly, her shoulders already shaking with the effort of holding it back.

“Yeah,” she tells him, because that’s the only reply she can force out of her mouth right now. Along with the only reason why she’s attending to him, to _him_ and not the other equally important jounin scattered around the tent, bleeding out and choking on their spit and on their deathbeds.

It’s just him, with his side split wide open and gushing; she swears she can see the tint of his guts peeking out and she swallows harshly, leaving his leg roughly healed and moves over to let green spill out from her fingertips.

She inhales deeply, smells the stink of gore and dried blood, her eyes tearing up from the bitter swirl of dust and sand in the air; she exhales on a push of chakra, the green pulse flaring over his skin and he winces, eyes squeezing shut.

There’s a brief bout where she doesn’t quite know what to say and her eyes linger on the curve of his neck, the way his fingers are clenched into tight fists, the way every muscle in his body is tensed up from adrenaline. She watches his throat move with every harsh breath he inhales and some part of her idly notes to check on his lungs ASAP, but another part of her is getting horribly, horribly distracted.

So she opens her mouth, her stupid mouth that doesn’t know what to say, because she always doesn’t quite know what to say when faced with him, ever since they were kids learning how to fling around kunai and do hand signs, and says, “you know, I always wanted kids someday.”

She puts it out there, and she doesn’t mean with _him_ , specifically, although she is looking at him pretty intently while she says it and she can catalogue the exact moment he stops breathing, because she forces a palm against his chest and kickstarts his lungs for him. If she left him to come to his senses himself, he might have just died before her from lack of oxygen to the brain. _4 minutes_ , she thinks, and that’s all he would have needed to leave her side forever.

“I- what?” He wheezes, and almost bites down on his tongue when she makes a derisive noise at the back of her throat. It’s almost as if he doesn’t know her, doesn’t know she’s always wanted kids since the very start when she used to plan their wedding together with all the hope of an idealistic idiot who wanted to end up with their childhood crush. She’s planned out names, planned out hair color combinations and bloodline possibilities, she’s planned out _clothes_ and let it not be said that she does not plan well, because she does.

“I’ve always wanted kids,” she says flippantly, repeating herself, and knows how to control her blood vessels enough to reroute the blood flowing to the front of her cheeks. She needs to focus, she needs to send him back out into battle and make sure he comes back alive, because she sure isn’t going to have kids with anyone else. She thinks that thought through, and purses her lips. Well, there’s always Lee, she supposes. He would treat her right, she thinks, and throws that thought out of her mind.

Maybe she’s screwed up, but she thinks she doesn’t want to be treated _right_ , if it means there’s a chance she’ll end up with the man in front of her. What a stupid thought, something hisses in her mind, and she wants to thrust a sword between her ribs for that idea.

He looks like he’s going into shock and she really _does_ slap him this time around, fury in her eyes and worry in her fingers as his head jerks to the side with the force of her slap. The fact that his head is still intact means a lot, actually – she doesn’t plan on offing him in the medic tent, so of course it was just meant to hurt and not kill, but she was this close to doing it. If he died on her hands just because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for one second and because he was too shaken up at the thought of being a father, _well_.

She thinks of informing him that she never intended for him to assume she would want them with _him_ , but he seems to have come to his own conclusions anyways as he opens and closes his mouth again, looking very much like he’s holding himself back from a panic attack.

“I don’t think- I’m not good father material,” he says hoarsely, with haunted eyes and desperation a backseat in his voice. There’s a vein of pity surging up in her, seeing the boy she thought she loved for the better half of her life look so shaken up at the thought of fathering a child – and this is even though she knows, from half-hearted conversations and whispered confessions when they were both drunk out of their minds that he’s always wanted to be a better father to his kids than his dad was to him – but the pity is curbed by something she places as hysteria.

Haruno Sakura looks at him, looks at the boy who was once her whole entire world, looks at the man with his life teetering on the brink between her fingers, who thinks her first option to having a child with is _him_ ( _although_ , something snide in her remarks, _he’s clearly not wrong_ ) and can’t stop the laughter bursting through her lips.

She laughs, hunched in over on herself, shoulders drawn tight and fingers trembling even as her palm remains steady over the closing wounds on his body. Everyone is looking, because it’s just bad manners to laugh in a medic tent where people are praying to every god they don’t believe in that they don’t kick the bucket right there and then on a sorry piece of cloth. It builds up to something akin to a cackle, maybe, with the harsh syllables of laughter spilling out of her throat and into the air, the way her eyes are almost squeezed shut with the force of her laughter and there are tears building up in the corners; her lips are stretched so far apart they feel cracked, like a piece of rubber that’s been out too long in the sun and is now being stretched so far thin it’s collapsing onto itself-

“You really, _really_ aren’t,” she gasps out, in between pockets of air where her hysteria leaves her and she can inhale deep breaths of air, right before her shoulders start shaking again and laughter bubbles out. “You totally _aren’t_.”

She laughs, and she thinks he can hear it when it teeters off into a sob.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
